


It's the little things

by manosoutas



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Ableist Language, Character Study, Day 1, Gen, Introspection, M/M, Roadrat Week, bpd!junkrat, honestly this is the only one i'll be able to write since welp college and all that stuff, internalized ableism, it's a miracle i was able to write this one, my junkrat always has bpd
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-19
Updated: 2017-02-19
Packaged: 2018-09-25 13:41:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9823067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/manosoutas/pseuds/manosoutas
Summary: Everything is fine. Everything feels safe.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is my... little gift to ppl wanting content for roadrat week. Anyways I'm sorry I won't be able to participate more, but I wanted everyone to have at least a little gift from me.  
> As always, you can come pester me at @sarushirosota on tumblr

The air feels hot. Intoxicating. It tastes like gunpowder, and fire, and sweat. It’s exciting, really. Junkrat tastes all of it, full of thirst and knowing. It’s a sense of utter stability that makes his heart throb. He supposes it’s not exactly recommendable to find comfort in chaos, but hey, it’s not as if he could do anything about it, right?

And, being absolutely honest with himself, even if he actually could, he wouldn’t. Indulging himself hasn’t gotten him killed, yet, so why bother? Thinking about it retrospectively, an arm and a leg is not exactly a bad price to pay when he can have so much fun in return.

So very fun.

He’s getting excited, he knows that much, at least. He’s usually bad at noticing details that seem blatantly evident to others, but even he can notice his own racing heart, the sweat on his back, and his muscles contracting with sheer anticipation.

Click. Click. Click.

Maybe too much anticipation, as his metal arm is kind enough to remind him. The fingers shake, and he tries to calm down a little. Breathe in. Breathe out. And the clicking noise stops. Can’t really enjoy some mayhem if his limbs don’t work properly, can he. He hopes at least his peg leg endures the ride this time. He realises, he can’t feel his regular hand at all, but he has the feeling that it’s shaking as well.

“Hey.”

He almost shrieks from the surprise. He totally forgot. How could he forget. He’s not alone in this, not anymore. Not anymore, he repeats to himself.

And before he can really say anything to acknowledge his voice, Roadhog keeps talking.

“Stay out of trouble.”

The words go directly to his brain, his muscles shaking with happiness. 

He is not stupid. The concern is there, it’s real, warm and strong, but still ought to be handled with care. Roadhog is a sensitive guy, after all.

He can’t answer, at first, too busy gulping and trying to calm himself down. No matter how much he enjoys the attention (and oh, boy, he does), he doesn’t want to worry the big lug. Not too much, at least.

He touches the feeling, delicately, treasuring the words, the moment, and promises himself not to forget about it. Not that he is good at remembering, or keeping promises to himself, but he tries. It’s tender, and sweet, in a very Roadhog-like way. Neither of them is good at showing care, but it works for both of them, anyways. Everything is fine. Everything feels safe.

His voice still shakes when he’s finally able to talk, trying to brush the feeling off so his bodyguard doesn’t get too cocky about it. Not that he would but. Just in case. 

Sometimes, Junkrat wonders if Roadhog is even aware of what he does to his brain, to his heart. Of how he makes his veins burn and his knees weak. Of the power he holds, almost too carefully, maybe sensing that the feeling could drown them both.

“I-I’ll be on me best behaviour!”

He almost can feel him smiling, probably not as much as he himself is, but it still sends a shock right to his brain. Roadhog gets closer, maybe unconsciously, as to make sure he really doesn’t put himself in danger.

Junkrat grin feels a little painful, the happiness beating inside of him like a time bomb. It’s the little things, he thinks. It’s the little things.


End file.
